My Favorite Kidnapper Read Online Melanie Moreland

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary, Funny, Insta-Love Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
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Perhaps my calculations had been off.

I was on my feet, heading toward her immediately.

“Are you all right?”

“Am I all right?” she repeated, her voice rising. “Am I all right? I went to bed last night in my apartment, and I woke up here! How do you think I am? I don’t even know where here is!”

“You’re at my villa. I brought you here.”

“You brought me here,” she repeated. She covered her mouth. “Oh my God, you’re going to make me a sex slave and sell me.”

I almost choked on my laughter. “No, that isn’t my plan.”

“Murder me, then. You’re some kind of sicko. Your family had no idea.” She suddenly crouched into a fighting stance. “Just try, old man. I can take you.”

I held up my hands. “I am not coming at you. No harm will befall you while you are with me.”

“Too late.”

Satisfied she wasn’t going to collapse, I returned to the sofa. I indicated the one opposite me, and after a brief hesitation, she came closer but didn’t sit. Her cat jumped up on the sofa beside me, curling up and purring as I stroked her thick gray fur.

Brianna barely concealed her shock. “She hates everyone.”

“She likes me. We became friends on the flight. She likes tuna.”

“So you bribed your way into her affections.”

“I gave her what she wanted, and she gave me what I needed. It was mutually beneficial.”

“What did she do for you?”

I kept a straight face. “She didn’t shit on the carpet.”

“Shame,” Brianna muttered, staring at Roomba. “Traitor,” she hissed.

The cat ignored her, burying her head and resting one paw against my leg.

I poured a cup of coffee from the pot, added some cream, and held it out to Brianna. She looked at it and shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

I took a sip of it and set it on the table. “Nonsense. See? It’s perfectly fine. I assumed you would need some caffeine to help wake up.”

I knew she wanted it. She stared at it, refusing to move.

I poured more coffee into my cup. “Come on. I won’t bite.” I grinned. “Yet.”

She came closer, edging slowly as if I was going to spring up and grab her. I supposed I couldn’t blame her for thinking that way. “Relax, Little Bee. You’re perfectly safe.”

She snorted, the sound making me grin. “Yes, what else could happen?” she sneered. “You already kidnapped me.”

“I told you. The hard way or the easy way. You were about to run—again. Since you so obviously wanted out of the city, I brought you here. Much nicer than that cabin you were going to hide in.”

She looked startled that I knew where she was going, but she pushed on.

“Which is where, exactly?”

I took a sip of coffee. “On the coast of Italy.”

She sat down, looking aghast. “I’m in Italy?”

“Yes.” I held out a plate of fresh breakfast pastries. “You must be hungry.”

“As if I would trust you not to drug those.”

“Pick one. I’ll take a bite and prove it’s fine.” I did want her to eat. And drink. She was still very pale.

“You could have drugged them all.”

I frowned. “That would be a waste of these wonderful treats.” I picked up one and took a bite, then chose another and did the same. I chewed and swallowed, then did it again. “Now, choose which of those you want. They are all fine.”

“I am not eating one of those. They have your cooties on them.”

“My cooties? Are we twelve?”

She snorted again. “You certainly aren’t.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Careful, Little Bee.”

She stood, pacing around the room. I let her wander, drinking my coffee and taking one of the cootie-infested pastries and eating it. It was delicious.

She must have reached her limit because she came closer, snagging a pastry from the plate and taking the cup of coffee I had poured. She moved away, sipping and chewing. I heard her low moan of appreciation, and I hid my smile by taking a drink of my coffee.

“I want to go home.”

“This is your home for the next while.”

She finished her coffee and pastry, setting down the cup with a thump. “You can’t keep me here.”

“Where are you going to go?” I asked.

“To the police.”

“I hope you speak Italian.”

“I’ll tell them you kidnapped me.”

“Good luck with that. I’m a well-respected businessman who owns a great deal of the real estate and businesses in this small town. They won’t believe you, even if you manage to make them understand.”

“How did you get me here? I don’t have a passport.”

“I procured one for you.”

“You-you have that sort of connection?”

“I have many connections, Little Bee. More than you can fathom.”

“Why did you do this?” she cried. “What have I ever done to you?”

I stood, approaching her. She backed up, hitting the wall. I stood in front of her, close enough I could feel the warmth of her body. Sense the rapid breaths she was taking. “You bewitched me. You and your delicious cakes. Your sultry voice. Your sassy mouth. I can’t get you out of my mind. I want you to bake for me. Sing for me. Dance with me. You will earn your freedom, one cake, one song, one dance at a time.”



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